the power misused amonniad series two
by pauline companion cavalry
Summary: Alexander Alae Amon has aided Ash in saving his friends' Pokemon. He has problems of his own, though, problems that only the gods can solve.


THE POWER MISUSED

(AMONNIAD Series Two)

By Tracey Esteron

Published by Athenian Academy Books Inc.

1023 Rictron St.

Pallet Town CA, 12345

Illustrated by Athena Brazion. Copyright 2010 By Tracey Esteron. All rights reserved.

This material's use in other books not made by the Rock Circle may only be done with permission from the CEO of Athenian Academy Books Inc. Any other use is allowed without having to get permission.

Tracey Esteron has begun her pokemon training career with a Chickoreeta, and she has entered a pokemon contest. Unfortunately, she had lost to Alexander. Oh well. She continues to write, visiting Ash to receive inspiration.

To Darius Ackisan, for giving us all the Persian army information and suggesting to make this series a lot of books that recount Alexander's life,

And to Bagoas, who isn't here with us yet, who hopefully approves of me using his namesake as a character that dies at Amon's hands.

Note: Later when Hephaistion and Alexander see Alexander's duplicates, the name and age of the person speaking accept for the current one and Hephaistion will be shown as Anumber, like A10.

1: Intent and Desire

The lightning crackled around the room. The mosaic designs of Achilles on the floor and ceiling moved in the flickering light. Just like the anger of the gods, and the hero, it was only quenchable by himself. Bolts of energy arced from every point: finger to shelf, hand to hand, hair to floor. He was surrounded in a cocoon of power, not penetrable by anyone or anything. Only a god could suppress him.

Then, the touch of another human soul got through the lightning. "Hello? You okay, you must be furious about Calesthenes."

"Don't mention that name in front of me! He has caused me too much trouble! If you weren't my best friend, I would turn you to ashes!"

"Don't have to be harsh." A week previously, Calesthenes, Alexander's historian, had broke into his house and tried to kill him in his sleep. Fortunately, Hephaistion and Pikachu had dispatched him. He had escaped, and Alexander had been on edge ever since.

Hephaistion's olive eyes scanned the glowing immortal that was his companion. His blonde hair standing up with the presence of this energy, his blue grey eyes bright and dark, his gaze able to blast the room to pieces. The eyes, dark and light, seemed to shine brilliantly. Circling the conqueror's eyes was his purpose, writtenin the thought creases around them.

"I know what I need to do," he said slowly, taking care with every word. "I'm going to find Calesthenes again, and he will be gone before you can say Thebes!" The energy field surrounded him again, and Hephaistion left, leaving his friend to his plans.

That night, Alexander dreamed of power. More power than he could ever imagine.

He was standing on Olympus, on the peak of the mountain, in the main palace. He was sitting at the base of Zeus's throne. The god stood over him, something in his outstretched hand: the most powerful weapon in his arsinal, a lightning bolt, three times as long as a man was tall. It was an arc of electricity, twenty feet long, smelling of ozone.

"You deserve a taste of this," he said, holding the tip of the bolt to Alexander's head. "You deserve what you have wanted." Zeus thundered. "You being a god isn't a strong enough position. You will stay a demigod, but you will never die. Your blood will be ichor. Every time you are injured, your power will increase. You will have no need of a sword."

Zeus placed the master bolt closer to the conqueror's palm, away from his head. "You will have this power for yourself," he said, "just not in this form. You will be able to channel it from your own body. You will be able to run into battle with a field of energy around you that if any man not of yours is standing in, will die without pain. Your thoughts can cause untold destruction within an enemy army. Even if you are fighting the entire world, you will have the strength of infinite warriors. You won't even have to fight most of the time. A shout from your lips will shatter enemy armor and weapons, and you can kill if someone hears such a powerful sound. This battle cry can cause earthquakes, tsunamis, lightning storms, fires. All you have to do is say yes."

He thought it over. I have wanted this for so long. What about my friends, part of his brain told him. An overwhelming part of his brain said, do it.

"I do want it. Yes!" he shouted.

Zeus pulled him to his feet and touched Alexander on the head with the bolt. Energy rushed through his veins. He couldn't take it. His skin was burning. He fell, then just as quickly, he rose to his feet. He noticed something. Normally, he was six foot six, but now, he seemed to be as tall as King Poros: seven feet tall. He felt stronger and in control. I wonder, he thought, what would happen if I tried to use lightning. As he thought this, a bolt of energy shot from his palm, hitting the ceiling. Then he tried again with a more powerful shaft. The marble above Zeus's head was scortched.

"Thank you," he said graciously, dipping his knees.

Zeus nodded. "And for a chance to use it," he said, snapping his fingers...

2: Missed Him Again

He was on the plain where he had fought the battle of Gaugamela.

Wait. He _was_ in the battle of Gaugamela!

He wasn't anywhere near his allies, and enemies of all cultures and arms surrounded him instead. He was disoriented more than he had been in any other part of his life. "How did I get here!" he yelled. "How do I do this?"

Then, he thought of how the gods stated their actions. "By the power invested in me, I want this battle to end!"

Everyone on the Persian side froze in horror. Then, he saw someone glance over at him from atop a chariot. It was Darius. The enemy army dropped their weapons and ran.

"Run, those who throw torches upon Athens, run!" he yelled. He started shooting bolts of lightning left and right. At first, the infantry tried to get on horseback, but then they were more visible. They let the horses die, and they ran first in groups facing forward, then back to back.

The Macedonians were gaping in awe. Then someone shouted, "He's winning the battle for us! We don't have to risk our hide! I could get used to this!"

"Yes!" The rest of them agreed. There was a signal from their commander, and their Companion cavalry swung into action. Alexander was running in front, somehow faster than their mounts. Lightning continued to stream from him, the bolts' light reflecting off many a breastplate.

"Forget winning the battle," another soldier shouted from across the battlefield, "we have to protect the king! The Macedonians are heading this way!" They shouldn't have said that, the demigod thought as he spotted his target: an ornamental chariot surrounded by the 10,000 Immortals, kinsman cavalry, and Applebearers, so named because of the gold apples on the ends of their spears.

First, he saw hundreds of gilded spear points, then individual men, then something happened. The points gave weigh, all the spears dropping to the ground. The chariot was in front of him.

"Yes!" he screamed, letting his voice bounce off anything around the armies. "He's mine!"

Then he looked inside the chariot and saw the reality. The chariot was empty. Even though this is my first use of my abilities, he thought, feeling a flush running up to his face, _why isn't fate with me?_

Then, like an answer from the heavens, he felt pain in the left side of his back. Someone had thrust a dagger into it. He felt the pain, but not a flow of blood: ichor ran down his cuirass instead.

There was a scream of joy from behind him.

"He's wounded! I'll take him!" A heavily accented voice was shouting from behind his back.

"You!" Alexander couldn't believe it. He had been wounded by Darius, his enemy. He had snuck out of his chariot, come up from the rear, and stabbed him. He spun around and slashed his arm like he was holding a sword. The arm was surrounded in a sleeve of lightning. Darius's sword clanged as it fell, and he looked at his left palm. There was no hand or fingers. There was only a sword, extending out of his wrist to a length of six feet. He slashed again. Darius' armor melted as the blade and the energy hit it, melted, and ran down his legs. Then, Alexander sliced at his neck, and Darius fell at his feet, blood and liquified metal spilling down his brestplate.

He was shocked. His own generals didn't end up killing him, but the rightful thing occurred. His enemy had felled him. He wasn't sure what he felt: astonishment, accomplishment, fearlessness? All could happen, and they _were all_ happening. He knew what his fellow soldiers thought: they were amazed, thankful, and a little bit if not very, intimidated.

"Your leader is now dead," he let known, "now who will you send from your forces to fight me? I have no need for an army, a helmet, or even a sword! I am blessed by Zeus. The god has sent me to avenge what your fathers did to Athens! Now, who will fight me!"

3: East Allies with West

The right wing of the enemy army was collapsed from his flight through it, and the center was nonexistent. The left was in tact ,and about fifty infantry separated themselves from the group. Then, five more groups of infantry separated. He saw that the men didn't stand alone, but in pairs. Young and old, tall and short, amateur and veteran fighters. Each person was overlapping shields with their partner, staying close. Could it be?

This can't be- It is! The Sacred Band! The Sacred Band was a group of three hundred soldiers who were one hundred and fifty pairs of lovers. They ate together, lodged together, and fought together. If one died, the other would fight until the last breath. They had no leader that he knew of, until then.

Two individuals detached themselves from the group. They were both Persian like Darius, but one was tall and battle-scarred, with ebony hair streaked with grey. His black-brown eyes scanned the carnage. His partner was shorter than the other man by about a half foot with light brown hair and aquamarine eyes which contrasted the features of his partner perfectly. They were similarly armed: shield, short sword, and dagger. Each had a cuirass, greaves, and helm too.

"Name yourselves," the demigod commanded.

"I am Bagoas, advisor to Darius III," the aquamarine-eyed man said,

"and I am Artaxerxes," said the other.

"You are serious?" their opponent questioned.

"We are serious," they said in unison, "but before we fight, we would like to practice a Persian war custom." Their opponent nodded and Artaxerxes removed his hand from the loop of his belt, hand clasped in a fist. He opened it and Alexander thought that the king would touch him on the chest, but he opened his palm to reveal a fine-tipped dagger. He thrust it into the cuirass, but the tip smashed into fragments when it made contact. Bagoas did the same, and the duo's daggers were useless before the duel had actually begun.

They drew swords from their sheaths and they slashed together. No blade met their strike, but a field of energy. Their swords bounced harmlessly off air and an arm thrust at them. They hoped that their two blades would take off the limb, but it cut like a sword, putting wedges in their edges. They were so busy staring that they barely had time to jump back to avoid getting slashed again. Bagoas attacked the left flank and the former Great King's vizier jabbed at the breast plate, trying to pierce it. None of their tactics got them far, but Artaxerxes did manage to lift off the bronze helm with a strike of the hilt of his sword, and he cut Alexander across the chin. He wanted to hear a gasp of pain and see a stream of blood down his cuirass, but almost the absolute opposite occurred. There was an expression of, what, expectancy, and an outpouring of gold liquid.

"Bagoas! Don't wound him!"

"Coward! He's-" He slashed and parried a strike, "our enemy! Why not wound him?"

"It's because he's, he's a god!"

"Liar! You just don't want to fight Alexander!"

"I'm serious! Ichor look!" He pointed with his sword tip. Then Artaxerxes felt a stinging in his sword arm. He looked down and saw blood trickling from the cut on his wrist. Normally, he could have just shaken off the pain, but this time, it smarted and bled. Bagoas was wounded in the same way. How? Alexander had no sword!

"Now you see how helpless you mortals are against me." He was sarcastic and calm, mocking them with having no marks on him. "I have no need for a sword or even armor. I fight with-" He pointed at the pair of them and they saw a bolt of lightning snipe at them. Both fell and their vision blurred. Pain coursed through their legs, through their greaves, and through their bodies.

"How," Artaxerxes heard Bagoas gasp.

"Let's just say that Mithra is with you no longer. The Greeks have been superior and always will be!" Artaxerxes glanced at his men. They were demoralized, discouraged, and doubtful of what he could do. He tried to let them know with his eyes that he would be okay, that Bagoas and himself would rise above the pain, the searing pain.

"Come, Sire," Alexander scoffed. "Are not two persons better than one?"

They both nodded slightly. "Then stand."

They hesitated; would they have to feel the pain as soon as they stood? "Do not be afraid," he coaxed with his quiet, persuasive voice, mixed with an accent that stressed his ts and cs and lengthened the duration of his vowels, the Macedonian accent. "Come, are you going to fight or not?"

He had been calm until now, but his face changed to sudden anger. "Fight for your country! Rise!" His clear, high voice pierced through to their brains and they unknowingly obeyed. Before they knew it, they were on their feet, swords slashing, shields blocking and taking the Great's blows again. Artaxerxes felt more cuts on his other arm and saw the invisibly edged limb come at his face. His jaw was burning. The Macedonian's fist was in front of it, clenched, for he had struck him. But the skin there wasn't just pained, but it was scorched, for the god's palm was surrounded in lightning.

Then, he saw the palm cut side first into his neck, felt a knife of pain, and fell and would never move again. Half the army shouted in dread: would Bagoas make it?

Apparently not. As soon as he got the chance, the vizier slashed under the breast plate and stabbed Alexander in the ribs on his left side. Ichor poured from the wound onto Bagoas's sword. Just the sword would be a valuable war prize, for the ichor soaked into it. It dripped onto Bagoas's hand and it burned like hot tar. His hand grew numb and his blade fell with a clatter onto the dirt. He saw the pointed finger again, and he put up his shield to try to protect himself. This would be in vain. As soon as the bolt hit the shield, the metal melted onto the man's chest, burning the flesh, and he took up his opponent's sword and slashed at his throat. He felt the cold fast blade on his skin and was still.

4: A Companion Falls

"Anyone who attempts to fight me will die in the same way as these Persians," he shouted. "Anyone?"

At first, the Sacred Band all took a step forward. They looked confident, and even the front ranks shouted paeans. Then, it seemed that all of them changed their minds at once. They turned and ran for their lives.

The part of the army that was left went too, followed by their vanquisher, whose mind set had abruptly changed. He had had some leniency with the mere two fighters, but with almost a million men? He felt different, stronger or more in control, like how he had when he had first arrived. He had taken the energy from the two opponents he had defeated and even with their iotas of energy, he felt much stronger. One million men's worth of energy? Imagine what he could do with that much power. He licked his lips, power-crazed, as if he could taste the energy swirling there.

He wanted to use all of his energy at once, so he gathered his will and laid his palms face-up in front of him, pointing his fingers at the fleeing Persians. Power flowed from his extended appendages like water from pitchers, scorching the ground around them, burning many, and crippling more. Row after row of soldiers fell at his outstretched hands.

"You're mine!" He heard the echo of his cry "Mine, mine, mine!"

The ground shook and men toppled like dominos. Several battalions died at once, grilled in their armor.

This continued longer than Alexander could recount. With every kill, every strike, every time a man fell, their vitality flowed into him. Blood flowed forth like water from popped water balloons, the ground turning scarlet. Some of their armor became molten and encased their wearers, preserving them. The smell of burning bodies filled the air. This only fueled Alexander's energy attack. He wanted this to continue for as long as possible. This is what war is, he thought. To see your enemies fall before you with such brutal beauty, to feel no regret, to do so with the sole intent of attaining glory. This is what Achilles desired. Oh, if only he could have killed Hector like this.

At some time, he had looked around to examine the battlefield. His own army was about a third of a mile behind him, gawking.

All of the Persian army was... gone.

Every man was dead.

He gazed at his handiwork, but something was wrong. He hoped that using all of his energy would make him drained, but satisfied. However, he still felt the power, that incredible power, rushing through every inch of him. How would he use it now?

He sensed someone walking up behind him. It was Hephaistion, his olive eyes shining with pride and maybe fear.

"That was amazing!" He shouted, clasping him on the shoulder. "I didn't think I would see the day! If only I could have done that too."

Alexander had intended to high five him and answer, but he felt a sudden blast of energy come from his shoulder. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hephaistion fall.

"No! Why Zeus why? Why did you not tell me of this? Why do the gods have to be so cruel?" He took his hand and held it to the place right below his mouth, letting energy flow out of it and into him. He wanted to join his friend if he really was gone. He felt a tie of pain on his flesh and a voice of concern.

5: Power in Numbers

"What happened! You okay?"

It was, was it? "Hephaistion!" Alexander shouted elatedly, "you're not dead!"

"Of course I'm not dead." His friend embraced him and pulled the covers off him. "What did you dream about?"

He told him about his crazed tyrannical killing spree, his craving for power. "Well, I expected this to happen eventually. You were the type of person to have it happen. You are pretty powerful, very passionate."

He paused. "Your desires are very strong and if you want something, you don't stop at anything to get it. Even before you were claimed, you were able to cause the lightning storm that allowed you to cross the Gelum, to let you continue your conquest."

Alexander laid an arm across his friend's shoulders, glad to feel their warmth and liveliness unlike the body he had seen. "But, how do you think I had this dream?" Hephaistion's friend inquired.

"You have _always_ wanted to be recognized as being a demigod, if not a Greek god. You want to be able to fight without having to risk the lives of your army, but you also want to kill every last unworthy man in an enemy army. You kept thinking that when you got this power, you would only use it on your enemies, but fate changed it around. You end up using it on your own men. You tried to use all the extra energy you had, but you could not extinguish your burning aspirations. I think that's why you couldn't control yourself when you saw me in this dream."

He saw his fellow Macedonian's face change from being tense and on edge to being relaxed, almost blissful.

"Well, what am I going to do about-" He gulped, unwilling to say the name, "Calesthenes? I can't capture him now, not in my condition. I feel like my mind is either gone or it is being taken over with Dionysus's madness."

He shrugged. "I can't believe that I would imagine something so, so, barbaric. That's not like me _at_ _all._ Usually, I sleep with no dreams or I have dreams that are as vivid as real life. What should I do?"

Hephaistion heard Alexander's voice quiver and shake, unsure, and one of the few times in his life, stuck where he was, unable to move forward or choose a path. He didn't have his friend's wisdom or military tactics. No, he just had his ability to make sure that he made the right choice. But would he have the capability to pass this on to his best friend, who he had known for two decades?

"Do what you think is right, no matter what it may be," he said with a touch of finality.

"But what if I don't know what I want to do? I feel like how Annabeth did in the _Battle _of _the _Labyrinth when she saw Janis, staring at the two faces, unable to make up her mind." He exhaled and his face changed back to being on edge.

"Do you know what you should do," Hephaistion asked.

"Yes, I do," Alexander reached down below his bed and he brought out a small mp3 player, smooth from many a gripping. He turned it on, and he skimmed through his playlist. He chose a song by an artist that Hephaistion knew so well: Rush and Roulette by Rihanna. His voice echoed around the room, his moderately pitched voice and accent made his notes smooth.

"Take a breath,

Take it deep,

Calm yourself,

He says to me,

If you play,

You play for keeps,

Take the gun,

And count to three.

I'm sweating now,

Moving slow,

No time to think,

I'll turn to go.

And you can see my heart beating,

You can see it through my chest,

And I'm terrified, but I'm not leaving,

Know that I must pass this test,

So just pull the trigger."

He was letting the whole world: friends and foes, present or not, understanding or not, of what he felt. He was possessed by the music, and he loved Rihanna, for the topics she sung of were easy for him to relate to. Behind his closed eyes, he saw himself alone in his room, head sticking out of a window, a microphone in hand, late at night.

"Say your prayer,

To yourself,

He says close your eyes,

Sometimes it helps.

And then I keep,

A scary thought,

And that he's here,

Means he's never lost.

And you can see my heart beating,

You can see it through my chest,

And I'm terrified, but I'm not leaving,

Know that I must pass this test,

So just pull the trigger.

As my life flashes before my eyes,

I'm wondering will I ever see another sunrise,

So many won't get the chance to say goodbye,

But it's too late to think of the value of my life.

And you can see my heart beating,

You can see it through my chest,

And I'm terrified, but I'm not leaving,

Know that I must pass this test,

So just pull the trigger."

The world's most successful conqueror stopped his, what was it: a lament, a song of indecision? Hephaistion and Alexander didn't know. But they did know that it was just a song that fitted his situation. Should he fight? Stay hidden? Or should he give himself up to the madness, the mind-bending madness? "Better?" The olive eyed Macedonian asked to break through the choice-filled silence.

"I don't know, maybe, just maybe, a little bit. I'm not crazy anymore, but that wasn't even my problem." He stopped. "I know what I should do. For real. I'm going to get prior help with my problem!" Alexander was confident once more, his old planning and random self again. "What do you mean by "prior help?"

"Well, you know how I came back to life?"

"Yes."

"Why can't I bring back more of me? This won't affect their own dimensions since they should be aware of being in both worlds." A knowing smile slipped itself onto his flawless but battle-scarred face. "Oh Zeus why? Please, _please,_ tell me that you don't have a plan."

"Well as a matter of fact Hephaistion, I do have a plan. Time to use a little magic."

The friends slipped off the bed, washed and dressed, and walked out of Alexander's bedroom into the hallway. Across the hall was his parents' room. His room was at the end of the hall, perpendicular to the stairway.

The door to the left was the bathroom and on the right, at the end of the hall, was the door that led to the roof, which was surrounded by windows that circled it, thirty feet high. They opened this door and headed up the staircase to the roof and its panoramic views of the street. Closing the entrance behind them, they stood in the middle of the largest room in the house. It was about thirty feet by forty feet with a thirty foot ceiling of glass. Light filtered in making luminous figures in the air. They sat on the floor side by side.

"The only thing you need to do," Hephaistion instructed, "is make a spell that does what you intend." He watched the face alter from understanding to thought.

"Don't make it too literal. Make it metaphorical." If a spell was made the wrong way, then the spell's affect would be taken literally. For example, if you say "make me a parachute" you would be transformed. A spell didn't have to rhyme like most do, but Alexander wanted to make it into free verse. "I'm ready," he said with his confidence. "Here goes.

Oh Hecate goddess of magic,

Give me the ability,

To bring back myself,

Ages seven to thirty three,

Myself from the past,

Them I will mentor and teach,

Make them physical and alive once more,

Here in front of Hephaistion and me."

The room stayed the same. Nothing altered, not a thing.

"I don't want to see this," he said, burying his head in his lap and Hephaistion did so too. They sat in silence and they weren't aware of the changes around them.

6: He Sent the Look-alikes

The bright early light darkened, making the shapes of about twenty five forms, each of varying height. Then, the forms solidified themselves into not twenty five, but twenty seven figures, all with Alexander's blonde hair and blue grey eyes. They were copies of Alexander from when he was seven until when he was thirty three. They had different amounts of knowledge and different skills. About half were dressed merely in tunics, sandals, and wide-brimmed hats, while the rest had full body armor: cuirass, helm, shields, sarissas. One, about twelve years old, came up behind Hephaistion and tapped him on the head.

"Hello? The spell worked."

He turned and whispered to someone else: "Either they're ignoring us or they're scared out of their minds. I'm guessing it's both. Who here is from Gaugamela?" A man with full battle gear came stepping forward and laid his shield across the two friends. The two felt the cold metal on their heads and first Alexander, then Hephaistion, looked up.

"Oh, my, gods," they said in shock. "Wait, you're me! But, not me. Where? When? How? Many-"

"If I stutter in the future," said one, "then how do I end up overthrowing the Persians again?"

"Before this all gets out of hand, I'm gonna say that, I'm not like any of you. I'm, a son of Zeus, about ninety two percent Greek god." All the prior copies of Alexander stared, half in shock, and from the Siwah Alexander onward, disbelief and understanding.

"You mean, my-" He stopped, trying to figure out how to talk to himself. "You mean, our trip to Siwah was worth it?"

"Yes it was ten fold. And there are more demigods out there and this is a place where demigods can seek refuge."

"But, wait, we're not in Babylon?" A33 wondered.

"No, not even Greece. This isn't in Pella, let alone Babylon in the middle of summer. It's spring."

"Let me explain," Hephaistion cut in. "First of all, you guys are right, we're not in a place you know of. I have to tell you something: this is a part of the world you didn't know of the first time."

"The U.S.?" asked one Alexander, who was shorter than the others.

"One how old are you anyway? Two how do you know?"

"I'm seven and I know, well, just because. I'm you, aren't I?"

"Why did you bring us here anyway? If it has to do with India, _never_ _again._ I finally see why my men were threatening to mutiny," someone commented, taking his helmet off and placing it on the floor.

"I have a problem," said the current Alexander, raising his voice so all could hear. "Last night, I had a dream that I was on Olympus and that I met Zeus. He had given me the blessing to become a god, and I got his power. I was on the plain of the battle of Gaugamela and at first, I was fighting the whole of Darius III's army, all one million men, plus the Sacred Band. I defeated the leaders of the Sacred Band, Bagoas not the one related to Kyros, but Darius's advisor Bagoas, and Artaxerxes. After I defeated them, the rest of the army that I hadn't killed before went running for their lives. I finished off all of them, every last man."

"Then, he met me afterwards," Hephaistion added, "and when I congratulated him, he succeeded in killing me. We brought you all here because, well, at the beginning of all this, Alexander was planning on finding Calesthenes."

"You mean Aristotle's nephew? I can't believe it!" A29 exclaimed.

"By the way," Hephaistion informed, "he ends up betraying you and teaching your squires the wrong stuff. Now he's back. What will he do now that he's here?"

"It's obvious," replied somebody who Hephaistion could tell was from the Sogdian campaign. "He's either back here of his own accord or someone used a spell to do that and he did a prior act that made us want to find him."

"He tried to kill Alexander twice, first using the other Team Rocket members, then using his dagger. He probably knows how to wield one, it's just that he didn't want to risk his own life the first time."

"I'm surprised," A22 remarked, "that Calesthenes can and does know how to use a weapon. He seems, I don't know, too fond of speaking."

"So, are you going to find him directly or find the person or people who brought him back?" A7 queried.

The room went quiet accept for everyone's breathing. "We're not sure," Hephaistion tried to answer, "but we do think that we have a list of suspects, which isn't very long, probably-" "It's Team Rocket!" Alexander yelled into Hephaistion's ear, "can it not be anyone else? They took our addresses remember a couple weeks ago? They were probably planning this, even before the contest. They used a spell like ours and-" "Wait," A33 interrupted, "Can we have someone who isn't making us rupture an eardrum tell us what they think will happen please?"

"Team Rocket used a spell to bring Calesthenes back a long time before the contest and if I'm guessing right, he planned the assassination attempt before the contest too. And now, they're using some spell that projects visions into a person's dreams to evoke the action of using a duplication spell."

"Not bad Sevens," A17 praised, "not bad tactics for someone who's a year younger than-wait who ran away from home first in Percy Jackson?" he asked Hephaistion.

"Luke Cestallan," answered he.

"When Luke ran away from home. Well, it's also kind of expected considering that we're all sons of Philip here. I know what we need to do: we all need to get registered into an organization that will let us have a lot of money to buy our reconnaissance missions' equipment."

"Already got that," offered Alexander, "the Rock Circle has a lot of money on hand. We have some agents available too. Let me call someone. Anyone got a phone? Thanks Hephaistion."

He dialed a number and held the phone up to his ear for a moment. "Hey can you get over to my house now please? I have some offers to sort out. Thanks Telemachus. Bring Athena and Odysseus too. Wait you're coming now? Cool bye wait one more thing?" he said confused. "Tell who ever is there to not look at the back of the room. Why?"

Then he saw a bright glow in the back of the room. "Okay I know what you're talking about." He turned and told everyone, "Look away. Someone's teleporting in here. Look away if you don't want to be burned to ashes by a god." He paused. "Sorry? Bye."

Three people came spinning out of the glowing light, Odysseus, Athena, and Telemachus, who looked so much like his father but with the brown eyes of Penelope. "Tell me that's not who I think it is," A20 pled.

"It is: Odysseus and Telemachus Ilium and Athena Brazion."

He saw all the copies get down on their knees and added, "No need to do that. I know her."

He ran up to Athena and they high fived. "Let me guess," she said, looking around at all of the Alexanders, "your doing? And it's an emergency?"

"It is," Hephaistion answered. "It has to do with Calesthenes."

"Oh gods not him. He was never worthy of being a demigod. Son of Hermes. Not surprising though since he ended up betraying you guys. Anyway, so you need me to take you guys to a place where you can get all your equipment and you know, acquaint yourselves with this place?"

"Anything would do but..., yes!" they said in unison.

"Okay then," Odysseus said, "let's get out of here. Everyone close your eyes and don't open them until Telemachus or me tells you to. After we take you there we have to leave though. Athena will stay."

They all did what he asked, and they felt the sunlight of the room fade and be replaced by a cool breeze.

"Open your eyes!" Telemachus exclaimed.

The group was standing on Mount Olympus, its white marble Greek buildings glowing in the sun. They were on the road that led to the main palace.

"It's just like in my dream," Alexander remembered, gazing around them.

"The palace of the gods is this way." Athena led the way. Although they had been here many times, the two were still fascinated at what they were seeing: hundreds of dwellings for minor gods and goddesses, stables, sheds, and other buildings looking down on central Greece. To the south, the once city-states of Athens, Sparta, Corinth, Thebes, and Argos were spread out for the gods to look at like pieces in a gallery. To the north, Macedonia and the lands of tribes like Thracians, Triballians, and Illyrians. Spacious parks bordered the road, with cyclopes, demigods, and minor gods alike strolling, talking, eating, and growing things on the many garden terraces. Small castles dotted the peak, perched precariously. All the roads came out of the main palace of the Olympians.

No one had noticed the party at first, but just then, a dryad, a spirit of the woods that lived in a tree, glanced over at them. First, she waved to Athena who returned the gesture, then she noticed Alexander beside her. She stopped eating the olive she was holding and stared with wide eyes. She slowly and timidly began coming forward. Hephaistion beckoned her with a hand, motioning to the Olympian and the demigod-Greek-god crossover.

She started by kneeling at Athena's feet and offering the rest of her olives which Athena took happily. "I don't regret making the fruit then," she mused. "Very nice: small, salty, with a pit that strangely no one seems to like in the olive. Oh well. At least they're still as beautiful as when I made them before." She pointed at the Macedonian at her side, looking down at the dryad. "This is a recently declared minor god, Alexander: god of brilliance, pokemon coordination too."

Everyone around them halted what they were doing and glanced over at him. The demigods looked in curiosity, awe, and some in fear, while the minor gods and goddesses looks said, "is this who we think it is?"

Like answering an unspoken question Athena cried out, confirming their suspicions. "This is Alexander Alae Amon, son of Zeus and step-son of Philip II. King of the Macedonians, conqueror of half the whole world, world's greatest military tactician, in my opinion, the trainer with the longest winning streak ever, and world's if not history's best pokemon coordinator! He may not look like it to you now, but he is exactly the same to the one who conquered Asia and Europe and Africa."

Some of the people around them shook their heads unbelievingly or rolled their eyes. "He seems innocent and calm now, but give him a battle to fight and he will come out the victor! He had and has done so many great deeds on behalf of all of us, especially myself, that Zeus has first claimed him, then given him the essential rights of a god. He is of same status as myself, but I personally think of him as being of higher status, seeing that he has harnessed military supremacy and greatness that I feel exceeds all others, even Julius Caesar, Nepoleon, and Hannibal. Now as proper, we shall all pay reverence before he meets our rightful, just, and technologically adept ruler Zeus."

Alexander expected everyone to start shouting insults at him. "He lies! He is no god! He's a mere mortal who is a pretender!" None of these shouts came, just silence like after a kitharist played a good piece. Then, chants started. Beautiful free verse poetry, made from nothing, made for a king, made for _him._

"All hail Alexander!

Defender of military commanders all,

The sole one who has won so much,

At his high clear voice proclaims orders followed by all,

All hail Alexander!

The one who Zeus embodies,

Is intelligent, always planning, never stops thinking,

He will be remembered in the minds of us all,

Alexander the Great, the fighter who will never fall!"

"This is for me?" Alexander shouted over the swelling chants.

"Of course it is for you! It has your name in it! They're praising you! Just like how they do to someone like me!"

"This is incredible!" A7 and everyone else yelled.

"Our work actually paid off!" A24 screamed. "Let's get to the palace! Before they attract Zeus's attention!"

7: Powers of Gods

The band of friends walked along the road until they reached the door of the hall. You couldn't call it a hall though, more like a stadium. Inside, they could all see twelve thrones arranged in an inverted U. At the extreme right was Zeus on his platinum throne. Energy emitted from him. "Um, We'll go," A33 said, motioning a finger towards the others. "Athena, Hephaistion, you have to stay. Come on." The rest of the group filed out, stepping with care.

Alexander knew what he needed to do. He approached the god like in his dream and gracefully, first bowed, then knelt, then prostrated himself in reverence.

"Rise my son," Zeus said, his voice drifting into his ear. "I am glad that you know what you have to do when meeting a god. Most just stand and stare. I know that you have been worshiping me and my children for years, since you were seven or younger."

"That is true sir," Alexander muttered, still prostrated.

"You may rise, you have no need of laying down this long. I will listen to whatever you have to say."

"Sire, I had a dream where I am standing in your presence and you bless me with your powers. You transport me to the plain of the battle of Gaugamela. I fought the whole of the Persian army and I defeated the Sacred Band single-handedly." He wanted to do this professionally, so he paused and continued. "After I defeated the Sacred Band, I killed the remainder of the army and after the fight when I met him-" he gestured at Hephaistion who knelt then rose as well. "I wanted to congratulate Alexander, but he hit me with energy and I died."

"On top of all this, Calesthenes, my former royal historian, is back. In January, he tried to knife me down. Now, I'm thinking that he was brought back by Team Rocket. I need a set of equipment to help me find him if not defeat him. Please Zeus, the lord of those on Olympos, will you help me?"

Zeus stared down Alexander, with those storm grey eyes. His face showed no anger, or any expression really. He stared in this way for several minutes, making Alexander uncomfortable and nervous. What does he think of me, he thought. I must sound foolish in front of this god.

Then, the sky god's voice cut through the quiet. "I have never heard of something like this. But I have heard of Team Rocket and ever since last April, I've been keeping an eye on you in your dreams. Your dream about me giving you this power was not of my doing. However, I know what I will do. I saw that you had company. Bring them in."

"Yes Zeus sir."

Alexander beckoned with both hands, and the twenty seven Alexanders entered in file. They neatly prostrated themselves and then stood, listening. "You mean," Zeus asked, "you actually duplicated yourself?"

"Yes sir," A19 replied, gazing in awe.

"Everyone sit." They did so. "All of you will receive a special set of skills from me. Although you are all Alexander, you are all different ages, heights, and most importantly, you have different preferences. I am able to see these advantages and exploit them through what your skills will be." This was finally it: the time when all of them would be recognized. "Alexander, I am making you ninety nine percent Greek god. The only ones who can kill you are if all the titans or all the gods combined forces and struck you. Every time you are wounded, your power doubles. Hephaistion, you will be able to take energy from your opponents and you will be able to make illusions to deceive your opponents. You will have never-ending evasiveness too.

Alexander VII, you will have the ability to be infinitely flexible, able to fit into spaces that others can not. You will have this." Zeus flicked his hand and a dart gun appeared. It had a main tube about five inches long and one inch wide. The end was a disc with a hole in its middle, the disc being about half an inch wide with a tube coming out of it that was connected to the rest of the barrel. It was about two inches long with a third inch diameter. A quiver of darts were built into the handle, twenty darts strong. "The disc is put in your mouth. It helps you hold the blow gun in place when you shoot. You lift up the top half of the smallest tube and you push the dart in. Then, you push it down until it clicks, put the disc in your mouth behind your lips, and blow."

He watched the child gaze in wonder and gratitude at his weapon. As a sign of respect, he loaded a dart into the third-inch diameter tube, clicked it shut, and blew with all his strength. The dart flew out the end, its feathered end not making a sound. It went the length of the hall and hit the wall, making a dent. He sucked in his breath and the dart returned to the case. "Thank you Zeus!" he said. "I'll go try this out. But there's one problem: do I ever run out of darts?"

"No you don't, they always come back to you." A7 ran out of the room happily.

"As for VIII, you will have a dagger that always delivers a lethal kill unless you tell it to." The dagger's blade was about a foot long, with a hilt less than half that length. It was double edged, and the base of the blade could make the whole blade rotate vertically in a circle on the hilt. Taking the knife, he slashed downward, making the knife revolve around its hilt. He nodded in thanks to Zeus and ran after A7.

"IX, your weapon of choice will be these goggles. They will let you see what weapons your opponent has and if they have been wounded previously. They are also laser goggles."

"Finally, we're starting to see some modern weaponry here. Thank you Zeus!"

"Alexander X, you will have a weapon no one else here, okay maybe accept your current self, has." A bronze headband appeared. A10 reached out and slipped it around his blonde hair. He was immediately aware of what everyone in the room accept the gods were thinking. "You can concentrate on the thoughts of a particular person and alter them at will. You can even control what their weapon will do."

"I'll go make sure that Vii's not killing anyone yet," he said, turning and leaving.

"XI and XII, you guys will be a pair. XI, you will wield a net and trident while XII will carry a bow. XIII, you will be the first to have a sword. This sword adjusts length, weight, and sharpness with opponents. XIV, you will have a discus that can transform into any weapon you need and no one else can use it. XV through twenty two, you will all be regular swordsman, but you can use your shield as a weapon as well since it has a sharp edge.

Twenty three, you will have the ability to locate the general of the army you are fighting. You have the ability to use this pokeball to mimic all your opponent's strikes and it makes the bad ones beneficial. Did I ever mention it does mimicked moves at five times power?"

"No you didn't," Xxiii replied. "The power of mimicry. Cool. I'm out." He turned and departed like his fellows before him.

"Twenty four, twenty five, twenty seven, twenty nine, and thirty through thirty three will be armed with bows, shields and sarissas. As for Alexander XXVI," Zeus's eyes seemed to brighten, "you will have the abilities of all: infinite flexibility, stats that can't be lowered, never-ending enemy knowledge seeing as you can change the thoughts of your opponents at will. All of these abilities can change of course, so don't expect them to be permanent."

The company stared at each other: they were all Alexander but they were all made for fighting in different circumstances.

"We are honored," Hephaistion said, "to be receiving these gifts from you Zeus. Since we have gotten what we ask, we shall leave you now."

Everybody started to back out of the hall, but Zeus called, "Wait. I have one more thing to add. It is very important."

"Name it please!" A8 demanded.

"If you all attack at once, you can't be stopped. Your stats can not be lowered, and the only way you can be stopped is by a god like Athena or your modern successor here. You will all do Tri Attack which either paralyzes, burns, or freezes your opponents. It works even if you all have the lowest stats you can have. And Alexander?"

"Yes?"

"I am now making you have the ability to bless and curse whomever you choose, not just if someone calls down a curse on your behalf. You can heal any of your friend's stats, but just having all twenty eight of you together will lower all of your enemy's stats by fifty percent. Your attacks will never miss unless you intend. And, I'm making you all Greek god and only a strike from Chronos's scythe will kill you. You can't be wounded if you are protected and if you are hit with any weapon when like this, your power still doubles. When unprotected, your ichor when it touches anything will make it burn, and it lowers stats as well. So that means that you are pretty much all Greek god."

He watched his son gawk at him. "You are serious?"

"I am as serious as the river Styx is unhabitable."

"Zeus, I don't know what to say. But, on behalf of all of us here, thank you. We are now ready for our training for when we meet Team Rocket and Calesthenes. Everyone, move out!" All of them exited the hall with some goodbyes in Greek and a couple more prostrations.

"I can't believe that it's only been one day," Athena remarked, "and you already have a fully armed company ready. But it will take some time though."

"Yeah," Alexander replied. "It'll take about a month to train all of you and my pokemon armed. Whatever happens, the power misused will now be the power that will bring this historian down, like what barbarians did to Rome. Training calls first. Beginning tomorrow, the Rock Circle will become a professional army. I shall notify the others, and I shall recruit my soldiers and officers in the next month.

Athena, you and the others stay here on Olympus and train. I may need you. Considering who I am fighting, I need every man I can get."


End file.
